


He's so good from behind, he's beautifully defined

by CompoundCritical



Series: twixt [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arthur Morgan Whump, Arthur Whump, Bound, Centaurs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gags, Gang Rape, Hermaphrodites, Hurt Arthur Morgan, Irish Vanner Colm, Irish Vanner Colm O'Driscoll, Lots of Cum, Messy, Multi, Mustang Arthur, Mustang Arthur Morgan, Version 1 of 2, Wet & Messy, anatomically correct, bound and gagged, centaur sex, hurt Arthur, tied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27233917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompoundCritical/pseuds/CompoundCritical
Summary: Hosea and Dutch hadn’t set out to scare him.They’d been frank. Honest. Hadn’t sugar-coated anything. Had put a gun in his hands and taught him to fight with his fists, his hooves, his teeth if he had to, anything he needed to do to protect himself. It had scared the shit out of him at the time, had left him cowering behind the stallions, but as he grew older he appreciated their bluntness.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Colm O'Driscoll
Series: twixt [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973119
Kudos: 18





	He's so good from behind, he's beautifully defined

* * *

Arthur was afraid of many things.

When he was younger, he’d been afraid of his sire. Of his anger, of his disappointment. Of losing him, despite everything.

And then he’d been afraid of dying. Of starving, of being killed for daring to be an orphan. Been afraid of Dutch and Hosea, when he first met them, and been afraid of them for a while after.

But his fears tended not to stick. Came and went, as he learned new ones. Some stuck around, sure - he still feared losing those he loved, still feared being put out on his rump for not pulling his weight enough. But for the most part, he didn’t keep his fears.

Being discovered as a Twixt, though. His sire had beaten that fear into him, and he’d never lost it. He’d wanted to stamp his head in when he’d been born, the stallion had always made sure to tell him, wanted to kill him for his freakishness before he could curse them all.

Sometimes, he thought his sire should have - that he _was_ cursed as so many Southern herds thought, because why else did everyone he loved die?

Being a mare is bad enough. Stallions think they have a right to you, constantly try to push you to join _their_ herd, try to make you theirs. Dutch had saved more than one mare from such a fate, and they’d had to keep a close eye on their mares, had armed them all to keep them safe from marauding stallions and bands.

But a Twixt? So many think they’re cursed, forced to walk a fine line. Not mare or stallion, near infertile and, thus, useless. But still they’re status symbols, fought over and guarded jealously - a foal out of a Twixt, considering Twixts rarity and their infertility, is thought to be a foal that will be healthy and hale, superior in every way to a foal out of a regular mare.

Hosea and Dutch hadn’t set out to scare him.

They’d been frank. Honest. Hadn’t sugar-coated anything. Had put a gun in his hands and taught him to fight with his fists, his hooves, his teeth if he had to, anything he needed to do to protect himself. It had scared the _shit_ out of him at the time, had left him cowering behind the stallions, but as he grew older he appreciated their bluntness.

It had saved his (quite literal) ass more than once.

  
  


Colm didn’t know he was a Twixt.

While Hosea had been gone, trying to start a life - maybe even a _herd_ \- of his own with Bessie, he and Dutch had joined up with a small band, little more than a pair of brothers, Colm and Connor. Dutch had grown to like Colm a lot, and very quickly, but though Dutch had trusted him a great deal he’d never told Colm what Arthur was, and had insisted that Arthur never say a word either.

Connor had found out, but never got the chance to say a word to Colm. He’d tried something with Arthur, and Dutch had put a bullet between his eyes.

  
  
  


He woke hogtied, all six of his limbs bound, the Irish Cob looking over him. The stallion's grin was a truly nasty thing, all ugly teeth that contrasted horribly with his striking coat, and he purred "Hello pretty boy."


End file.
